


Ask not of me to Know Your Pain

by musicalgirl4474



Series: Whumptober 2020 [18]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, Suicidal Thoughts, There's a doctor, Whumptober 2020, and hand-wavy medical stuff to do with head injuries, in case you were wondering., kind of, laudanum was opium
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27096583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalgirl4474/pseuds/musicalgirl4474
Summary: Hamilton is back in camp, now Washington will learn some of what has befallen him. Lafayette does not envy himself being the messenger.Whumptober #18Panic! At the DiscoPanic Attacks/Phobia/ParanoiaMostly the first one, but also the other two if you squint and put on shades.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & George Washington
Series: Whumptober 2020 [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956718
Comments: 13
Kudos: 56





	Ask not of me to Know Your Pain

Washington is there to meet them, when the party arrives back at camp. Hamilton is blessedly asleep by Lafayette’s side, and so cannot plead for the death he claimed to prefer over being sent away from the camp. Lafayette gently moves his friend’s head from his lap to stand to meet the General.

“How did it go?” the man asked, standing stiffly as Meade rushed off to fetch the doctor.

“The trade itself went well enough,” Lafayette said stiffly, “but the British do not treat their prisoners near as well as we have treated their men. Alexandre has need of a doctor.”

“How poorly is he?” Washington asked quietly, shifting his weight to catch a glimpse of the cart and its precious cargo.

“I . . .” Lafayette stopped as he noticed the curiosity that the commotion of their return had sparked. This was not something that sharp ears attached to idle mouths should hear. “Perhaps we take this discussion into headquarters?”

“Indeed,” Washington nodded, and then raised his voice. “Have Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton brought to my room for the doctor to care for him, the fire there is already warm.”

It was a transparent excuse to have Alexander in a place that the General could look after him, but Lafayette could not fault it. He would have offered his bed if Washington had not offered his own.

Washington and Lafayette preceded the cart through the camp towards headquarters, and Lafayette decided to be grateful that the General had not caught any more than a glimpse of Alexander. There was no part of the man that was uninjured.

The air was warmer than it had been the last few days, the sun warming the dirt of camp so much that a few men were cheerfully barefoot. Lafayette was only glad that the warm air meant that Hamilton was not shivering as he had been all night.

Lafayette and Washington adjourned to the General’s office, across the upper floor’s hall from the room where Hamilton was being placed. The General stayed standing, but motioned that Lafayette should sit, if he wanted. A man of few words, Washington’s physical movements often spoke volumes. But rather than sit and leave the man to his tense fear, Lafayette stepped forward and embraced him.

“He is safe now,” he said, and felt some of Washington’s tenseness ease. “They can do him no more harm.”

“What harm _did_ they do him?” Washington asked.

“His right leg is broken, I know that much,” Lafayette said. “And his right hand is missing-”

“ _Missing_?” Washington interrupted him, incredulous. “What do you mean, _missing_?”

“I assume it was cut off,” Lafayette said, trying not to show how uncomfortable he himself was. This would be much easier if he was able to distance his own emotions from it. “He also had much blood on his clothing, and appears to have been whipped.” As to the fact that it was largely Hamilton’s breeches that had been bloody, the fact that he may have been _violated_ in that way . . . Lafayette kept that to himself.

Washington closed his eyes firmly and moved away from him to lean heavily against his desk. He could tell that the General was holding himself back from throwing an inkwell or book across the room; his legendary temper flared worst when someone he cared about was hurt. “And that is all that we know of. Arnold is capable of mental tortures as well, as much as he plays at being a gentleman.” Washington seemed to collapse further into himself. “I had hoped that most of those tendencies had been curbed when I took him into my confidence, and it appeared that they had. But perhaps he was too bloodthirsty a creature; it was when he was denied active field command that he broke faith with us.”

Lafayette knew where this was going, he had heard this self-flagellation more than once in the last few weeks. “There was nothing you could have done to predict or stop Arnold’s treason,” he said as firmly as he dared. “His heart was closed to all but himself, but he was skilled at hiding it.”

Washington bowed his head. “I made a grave mistake,” he rasped, “and even now, Alexander pays for it.”

And as if Providence itself wanted to torment the General further, a scream split the air from across the hall. He felt himself moving before his mind could even prompt him, but still the General made it to the other room before he himself. Alexander was awake despite the head wound, thank God, but he was cowering against the wall by the bed, staring wild-eyed at the doctor and his assistants.

“What happened?” Lafayette demanded as Washington went to try and calm Hamilton.

“The doctor was attempting to remove Hamilton’s clothing, to get a better look at his leg and where the blood might be from,” Meade said quietly. And then: “Hamilton seems to know not where he is, nor who we are.”

“Sir,” Lafayette called to Washington, but the General did not heed him, only crouching next to his terrified aide and speaking lowly to him. Hamilton did not react, and the fingers of his hand (his left hand, his _only_ hand) started trembling as he reached with both arms to cover his face.

“If he has been through what I think he may have,” the doctor said quietly “I would suggest some laudanum to calm him, perhaps put him back to sleep, but I worry about the head wound.”

“I looked over that wound before you arrived Sir,” one of the assistants piped up, “I do not think the brain inside is too badly damaged.”

“Then enough laudanum to calm him would be safe, though I will not put him to sleep,” the doctor decided, and moved to his case to find a vial of the precious medicine. Medicine which Alexander hated. Lafayette moved closer to his friend, and was horrified at the words he heard, which he had hoped never to hear again.

“Kill me,” Hamilton was gasping into Washington’s chest, and the General looked up at Lafayette, tears brimming in his own dark eyes. “Please, if you’d make me leave, kill me first, I won’t go back-”

“We will not _kill_ you, Alexander,” Lafayette said, and Alexander shook his head. 

“I won’t go back, don’t make me go back, they will take me, I’ve nowhere to _go, please_ Sir . . .”

“Hush,” Washington choked out, past the lump no doubt forming in his throat, same as the one obstructing Lafayette’s own words. “We will keep you here, Hamilton, you have nothing to fear, hush . . .” and then, being handed the vial by the doctor, the General moved one hand to the back of Hamilton’s head, still keeping the man pressed against his front. “I need you to drink this for me, Alexander,” he said quietly. To Lafayette’s surprise, Alexander did so, drinking the laudanum without any kind of struggle. “Nothing bad will happen to you,” Washington murmured as Hamilton’s shaking began to subside. “I promise. I am right here, hush.”

**Author's Note:**

> This whole 'Ask not of Me' series is something else my dudes. Again, I have no plan for anything I write for whumptober. This just HAPPENS. If there are any scenes you'd like to see in this verse, let me know, they might fit with some of the prompts. And I might continue some of the series (plural, I just realized the singular and plural of series is the same) from Whumptober after it's done.
> 
> ALSO: Again, the Arnold in this series is a lot creepier than real Arnold. Historical Benedict Arnold betrayed the continental army for money and because he felt he wasn't getting the glory he deserved (that's the simple, quick explanation), this Arnold is a bloodthirsty creep.


End file.
